


Happy Christmas from Sherlock and Molly...

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Saccharine Christmas Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Molly accomplishes the impossible.





	

Sherlock leaned his forehead against the door and sighed. He closed his eyes, his face set in the most dire expression of dread he had ever worn. 

“Molly, please.” He gulped, took another deep breath. “I can’t do this. Please.”

Molly waited a full minute before responding. If she could accomplish this task with Sherlock, she knew she could do anything. 

“Sherlock, if you love me...if you love me, you will do this. I will never ask you for anything ever again, but please do this. For me. For _us_.” She knelt on the bed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she whispered to herself, please Sherlock, please, please…

Sherlock knew he was beaten. He had tried everything - reason, sarcasm, pouting, back to reason, and then finally begging. Nothing had worked. She was adamant. She was merciless. She had turned into the Ice Queen, had cut him to shreds with stories of what would happen to them if he did not comply, had finally collapsed in tears - and that had done him in. 

But he could not make himself open that door. His hands shook. His heart raced. His voice was a strangled moan as he whispered her name.

He heard her voice once again through the door of the bathroom, softly, sweetly reminding him that everything good in his future hung in the balance. 

“Sherlock…”

“FINE!” he roared, and flung open the door and stepped into the bedroom. He stood there with his eyes scrunched shut, fists clenched at his sides. He knew his skin was flushed red from the tips of his ears to his toes, while his mind flashed through every horrible, humiliating scenario that would result from this outrageous act into which she was forcing him.

Molly stared. She stared and stared. And then, ever so slowly, she smiled, a smile that began at the corners of her mouth, worked its way across her lips, then wrinkled her nose and dimpled her cheeks and flowed into her eyes, giving them the most incredible adoring sparkle he had ever seen. Her _entire_ _body_ smiled at him. It made him weak in the knees, made his heart literally flutter in his chest. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and, dropping his head forward in resignation, relaxed.

Molly’s smiles were magic. They were the embodiment of all the wonder ever felt at any miraculous moment. For Sherlock, knowing that he was the cause of one of those happy smiles made everything he had ever faced worthwhile. He could do this, he _would_ do this, and live with the consequences - because she smiled at him that way. 

Sherlock’s lips quirked. He looked down at her, kneeling on the bed, absolutely deliciously edible in her skimpy little green outfit, and suddenly he was grinning and striding forward to bounce onto the bed beside her. 

“Everything ready?” he asked, slipping his arm around her waist, and nuzzling her neck. Her hair was loose around her bare shoulders; the tiny little dress she wore was bright green velvet. On her legs were red and white striped thigh high stockings and on her feet were green felt shoes with pointy toes curling up and finished with a little bell. On her head was a little cap, perched saucily to one side. She held a stick in her hand, at the end of which was a little camera. 

Molly kissed him on the nose. “Ready when you are.” 

“Shall we?” Sherlock took the selfie-stick from her and held it out at arm’s length. “You know, we may just have to take dozens of photos to get just the right one. This could take hours. We’ll need to take a few breaks.”

Molly snuggled against him. “Mmmmm….yes, I’m sure it will take hours. And then we’ll have to recover, which could take even longer. Selfies are hard work! But let’s make sure the ones in the beginning are okay to put on the Christmas card. We don’t want to...shock anybody.” She giggled and trailed her fingers over his chest. 

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissed her fingers. “Then we’d better get started, this elf appears to be growing…” He glanced down at his green velvet clad lap and smiled again. Yes, the humiliation of having his picture taken wearing the silliest elf costume ever created, complete with laced up shirt front (which Molly had insisted be undone halfway down so it was open necked like his dress shirts), short, tight velvet trousers, red and white striped socks and pointy-toed green felt shoes (graced with bells to match Molly’s), would be worth it in the end. He kissed her on the nose, did his best to smile, and looked into the camera. 

“Happy Christmas, Molly.” 


End file.
